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All my brode landys and me,
Ther myght no man hur stylle.
Lorde that them lykyd ylle ; Kuyghtes and squyers that there was Wrange ther hondys and seyde, allas !
For drede sche schulde hur spylle.
Dewkyś and erles ther hondys wronge,
Barons myght have no roo:
As he was wont to doo?"
When tythynges came hym too,
“ My byddyng that ye doo :
Slo them down where ye them mete,
Loke now that taste :
I schall wyrke, as have y yoye,
And stroye hyt at the laste."
And barryd them full faste,
And quarels wyth alablaste.
They wythynne wolde have gone owte,
And made them to kepe ther holde,
That hardy were and bolde.
They wepte bothe yonge and olde.
Many a oon and thyck folde.
So longe logyd the sege there,
Evyll lyfe can they lede;
They were not ordeygned therfore,
But mete was them full nede.
That doghty were of dede;
The towne levyth all in drede,
And Awdegone hur cowncelde foo
Syr Mylys or sýr Emere ;
Knowyn bothe farre and nere.” Ye, but now ys fyr Emere tane, And Garcys men have hym Nayne,
Seyde that maydyn clere.
Hyt ys my cowncell wythowțen were."
To wedde that maydyn free,
That ys whyte as lylly-flowre,
The grettyst yn Crystyante.
And trewe man thynke to bee.”
And seyde, Y schall avyse me.
Avyse the, seyde that maydyn feyre, 910
Lyghtly may y thynke.
To suffur dethys dynte.
And many a ryall thynke. Forthe he yede wyth syghyng and care, That he had gevyn that fowle answare, 920
For sorowe nere wolde he synke.
Thys whyle had Synagot takyn Emere,
And seyde, We have tane a knyght
Agenste yow fyghtyng in the stowre,
But he ys an hardy wyght.
That now to dedd ys dyght ; As fowdears, my brodur and y, We have noght ellys to leve by,
Owre fadur fordyd owre ryght.
Syr Phelyp of Hungary owre fadur was,
Owre modur weddyd ys newe,
And owre bytter bales to brewe.
Per chawnce that may hym rewe.”
He femyth covenawnt and trewe.
Than answeryd fyr Garcy,
Thy fadur in ftede stode me,